


2016 Agent Carter Prompt Fics

by spatialvoid



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt w/o Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, The Office (US) AU, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-09-20 02:18:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9471077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spatialvoid/pseuds/spatialvoid
Summary: Chapter 1:Howard Stark Is Antagonized by a Bernese Mountain Dog- Edwin/Ana, Howard Stark - FluffChapter 2:A Day to Themselves- Peggy/Daniel - Hurt/ComfortChapter 3:Snowed In- Peggy/Daniel, Angie Martinelli - FluffChapter 4:How to Make an Entrance- Peggy & Jarvis - Action/AdventureChapter 5:Daniel Helps Stitch Peggy Back up After the Fundraiser- Peggy/Daniel - Hurt w/o ComfortChapter 6:Angie Martinelli Takes Los Angeles- Peggy & Angie, Peggy/Daniel, Edwin Jarvis, Ana Jarvis, Howard Stark - Fluff, FriendshipChapter 7:Agent Carter The Office (US) AU- Peggy/Daniel, past Peggy/Steve, Rose Roberts, Jack Thompson - The Office (US) AUChapter 8:Do You... Fondue?- Peggy/Daniel, Howard Stark - Fluff





	1. Howard Stark Is Antagonized by a Bernese Mountain Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt from[lillianmmalter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lillianmmalter): And I don't have any specific prompts for Edwin/Ana or Whitney/Manfredi, but I'm intrigued by the fun fluff or tragic angst that could come from them respectively._
> 
>  
> 
> Howard Stark is being antagonized by a Bernese Mountain Dog. Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis are quite amused.

“Jarvis!”  Howard Stark’s voice rings loud and clear through his Los Angeles home, sending the aforementioned butler into a nervous tizzy.

Mr. Jarvis appears at the door, looking out over the swimming pool, where Mr. Stark is standing by the pool, dripping wet and looking rather alarmed, and Mrs. Jarvis is sitting in the sun reading.  “Yes, Mr. Stark?”

Howard gestures to the swimming pool behind him.  “What is this thing meandering its way around my swimming pool?”

Mr. Jarvis looks behind him. Ana’s puppy, Matisse, is swimming around the pool. “Ah,” Mr. Jarvis says, wiping his hands on the dishtowel hanging from his apron, “that would be Matisse.”

“Jarvis,” Howard says, “what is that thing?”

“A dog, Mr. Stark,” Ana says, and Howard raises his eyebrows.

“And why, Jarvis, is this… dog… in my swimming pool?”

“Well, Mr. Stark,” Mr. Jarvis says, and his hands twist together nervously, “I’m not quite sure, exactly.”

“Matisse appears to be very fond of swimming,” Ana says, and Howard rolls his eyes.  

Howard throws up his hands in exasperation. “Is it even your dog, Jarvis?”

“It’s Ana’s dog, Mr. Stark,” Jarvis replies, and Howard’s eyes soften.  

“Never mind, then, Jarvis,” he says, almost bashful, and Ana laughs, standing and striding over to where Edwin stands, wrapping an arm around one of his.  

Howard dives back into the pool, and Matisse swims up to him, nudges him with an oversized, clumsy paw. Ana rolls her eyes and smiles.

“He is rather adorable,” she says, and Edwin’s eyebrows shoot up.

“The dog or Mr. Stark?” He asks, and she laughs.

“The dog, you silly man,” she replies, and she kisses his cheek, walks into the house. His eyes follow her as she opens the door.  

“Are you coming, Mr. Jarvis?” She asks with a playful lift of her eyebrows.

He blinks. “Ah, yes, I’ll be right there. I may have to finagle Matisse out of the swimming pool first.” He watches out of the corner of his eye as Howard tries to swim, only to be followed by the dog wherever he goes.

Ana grins. “Ah, maybe I will stay out here and watch, then. That could prove quite amusing.”

Jarvis gives her an alarmed look and moves to follow her indoors. “On second thought, I think that Mr. Stark is perfectly capable of handling himself.”


	2. A Day to Themselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt from[missbuster](http://missbuster.tumblr.com/): Fic prompt: Peggy and Daniel finally get a day to themselves. But it's after a mission and they are busted up. Comfort ensues?_
> 
> 761 words. Takes place post 2x10, obviously.

“Just let me look,” Daniel says, and Peggy rolls her eyes, but she relents, untucking and unbuttoning her shirt to reveal a frankly frightening number of scrapes and bruises.  

“I’m a mess,” she says, and Daniel inhales, runs his fingers carefully over a gash that really ought to have been stitched up.  It’s closed, but just barely.  

“You’d think if she hates you so much, she’d just try to do away with you for good,” Daniel mutters.  “Believe me, I’m glad she hasn’t, but it’s definitely strange.”

Peggy sighs.  “I don’t think Dottie Underwood hates me.”  She tugs at his arm carefully.  “What’s she done to you?”

He winces at her touch.  “It’s nothing, Peg.  Let me fix you up first.”

“Daniel.”  The tone of her voice reminds him of being with her in a surveillance van, in a moment not entirely unlike this one.  His handkerchief was bloodied in both instances, but his emotional state’s far less fragile this time around.  

“Peggy,” he says, and she rolls her eyes.

“I’ll survive,” she says, “just let me see.”

“I’ll survive, too,” he retorts.  “Hand me that bottle of alcohol.  This’ll get infected if you’re not careful.”

She hisses as he presses at the gash on her ribcage with a cotton ball doused in alcohol.  “Oh, bloody hell, that _hurts_.”

“All the more reason for me to do this,” he mutters, and she runs a hand through his hair as he continues to press.  “Ouch.  Don’t do that.”

She pulls her hand away quickly.  “Goodness, you are all scraped up, aren’t you?”

He sighs and pulls back to look at her. “Took a knock or two, yeah.”

She looks at him imploringly.  “You’re not concussed, I hope?”

He shakes his head.  “Don’t think so.  Turn around.  I’m assuming your back’s as much of a mess as the rest?”

She rolls her eyes, but obliges. There’s another gash, not quite as big as the first, beneath her right shoulder blade, and a mess of bruises. He runs his fingers over the scar from the Roxxon incident, and she winces.

“Still hurts, even now?”  He asks, and she nods as he presses another alcohol-soaked cotton ball to this gash.  “You want ice?  You’re black and blue all over.”

She groans.  “I don’t think there’s enough ice in the world to improve how I’m feeling right now.  Are you finished?”

He’s washing his hands at the kitchen sink now, and she watches his strained movements as he comes to sit back down in the chair next to her.  “All done.”

“Let me look you over now, please,” she says.  “You look dreadful.”

“Well,” he mutters dryly, “I don’t particularly like having to pull my girl out of fights with Russian assassins.”

“Fair point,” she replies, gently touching his arm.  “Where’s it the worst?”

“Everywhere?”  His voice is somewhat pained but his eyes are mirthful.  “You might have to kiss it all better, Peg.”

She rolls her eyes.  “Daniel, I can barely move at the moment.”

He sighs.  “I know.  Me too. And on our first day off in three months.”

“Take off your shirt,” she says resignedly.

He laughs, and then he grimaces with pain.  “Damn, that hurt.”

She purses her lips.  “I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” he says, and he starts on the buttons, “but I imagined you saying it in an entirely different context.”

She sighs and closes her eyes for a moment, obviously exhausted.  “Daniel.”

He slips his shirt from his shoulders. “Peggy.”

“I’m bloody well _exhausted_ , dear,” she says, “much as I wish I wasn’t. All I really want right now is to finish patching you up and then to sleep for the next twelve hours.”

She runs a hand along his ribcage and he hisses with pain.  “Hurts real bad.”

“Just bruised, I think,” she answers, “but maybe cracked.  If they’re not better in a few days…”

He nods.  “…I’ll go see a doc.  Messed up my shoulder, too.”

Her eyes narrow. “Which one?”

He sighs and rolls his eyes.  “Which one do you think?  Left. Walking’s going to be even more of a bitch than it usually is.”

“I really am going to kill her one day,” Peggy mutters angrily, and then her demeanor softens.  “How’s your head?”

“I’ll survive,” he says, “but I wouldn’t mind a couple aspirin.”

She gets up and fills a glass with water, taking some herself, and then handing it to him.  

“Thanks,” he says, and she yawns.  “How about those twelve hours of sleep?”

Peggy smiles tiredly.  “Nothing has ever sounded better.”


	3. Snowed In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt from[snowthelostgirl](http://snowthelostgirl.tumblr.com/): Prompt: Peggy + Daniel + Snowed In (whether at home or the office). (Obviously this would require some sort of move back to NYC or a vacation or something? Pretext is not needed)_
> 
> Peggy/Daniel (from the perspective of Angie Martinelli, because I love her). 766 words. Takes place in New York, during the Great Blizzard of 1947.

The entire picture is sickeningly adorable.  

Danny-boy’s sitting on one end of the couch, reading quietly aloud, and Peggy’s lying down next to him, her head resting on his left leg.  His hand is pretty well tangled in her hair, and her eyes are closed, relaxed, even though she doesn’t look to be asleep.  

Angie sets down her purse on the table and takes off her gloves.  “No sign of the snow letting up any time soon.”

Peggy’s eyes flutter open and Daniel looks up from his book, attentive.  “How much is there now?”

“Fifteen inches already, but the drifts are huge.  I sure hope you two weren’t thinking of going anywhere.”

Peggy yawns.  “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Until this week, neither of us have had a day off since the end of July,” Daniel says, and the both of them, Angie observes, still look exhausted.  “We’re not going anywhere.”

Angie hangs her hat by the door.  “You two want tea?   Coffee?”

Peggy sits up, running a hand through her hair to smooth it.  “Tea would be lovely, thank you, Angie.”

Angie tweaks an eyebrow.  “Danny-boy?  Tea? Coffee?”

Daniel rolls his eyes at her use of the nickname, and she laughs.  “Whatever Peggy’s having,” he says absentmindedly (and Angie doesn’t think that’s a word that would typically describe him), looking at Peggy like there’s no one else in the room.

She watches them for a moment as Peggy readjusts herself and curls into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. Angie’s never seen Peggy quite like this.  She’s been gone more often than not for work the past few months, and nine times out of ten, she’s come back tired and out of spirits.  This time is different, though, and Angie thinks that the shift might be largely due to the fact that she brought Daniel home with her, insistent that they shouldn’t spend Christmas on opposite ends of the country.  

It takes a few minutes for the water to boil and the tea to brew, and she listens to the weather report on the radio while she waits.  There’s talk of record-breaking snowfall, and she hopes that it won’t keep her from going home tomorrow to have dinner with her dad.

All week long, Peggy and Daniel have gone easy on the public displays of affection, and so Angie’s a bit surprised when she walks back into the room, tea in hand, to find them lip-locked, practically on top of each other.  

“Tea’s ready,” she says with a chuckle, setting the cups down on the coffee table with a clink, and they spring away from each other with a start.  Angie smirks. Peggy’s hair is a right mess, and Danny-boy’s got lipstick from one side of his face to the other.  

Peggy blushes, looking at Daniel and gesturing to his face.  “You might want to…”

He whisks his handkerchief out of his pocket and starts wiping at his face.  “Oh, geez.”  He looks at Angie apologetically.  “Sorry you had to witness that.”

Truth be told, she’d thought the whole debacle was pretty cute, but she just smiles and says, “Don’t apologize.  It’s nice to see Peg so happy.”

Peggy’s blushing, still, as she reaches for a cup of tea.  “Thank you, Angie.”

“No problem,” Angie says, settling herself in the chair across from them.  “Heard on the radio that the snowfall could be record-breaking.”

Daniel shivers.  “I can’t seem to get used to how cold it is.”

Angie laughs.  “Don’t rub it in!  Not all of us live in California!”

Peggy grins.  “I tried to convince Howard you’d be a superb leading lady for his latest picture, but I’m afraid he had his heart set on someone else.”

Angie smirks. “You’ll wear him down someday, I bet.  How’s Mr. Jarvis?”

A flash of something worrying crosses Peggy’s face for a brief moment, but she continues to smile.  “As far as I am aware, he’s quite well, as is Mrs. Jarvis.” She looks at Daniel.  “I’m afraid it’s been a while since I’ve seen them… work has been… all-consuming.”

Daniel lets out a chuckle.  “That’s the understatement of the century.”

She’s not quite sure what the nature of their work is, exactly, but she knows it’s risky, and that Daniel’s been doing a lot of holding-down-the-fort back in California while Peggy travels all over the place for whatever she’s been working on at the moment, stopping occasionally in New York or Los Angeles for a breather.  

Peggy presses a kiss to his cheek. “And you’ve been absolutely splendid, dear.”

He squeezes her shoulder warmly.  “Thanks.”


	4. How to Make an Entrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt from[TheColdestGinger](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheColdestGinger/pseuds/TheColdestGinger): Your writing is wonderful. I'm in love! Can you write something about Peggy knowing how to make an entrance involving Peggy swinging in on a chandelier or her riding one down during a mission._
> 
> This is so ridiculous and I love it so much. 375 words.

“Oh god,” she says, assessing the situation and listening to the gentle roar of the party going on beneath them, “this is going to be bloody awful.”

“Miss Carter,” Mr. Jarvis pleads, “I don’t believe this is a wise decision.”

She rolls her eyes.  “I am quite capable, Mr. Jarvis, of handling myself.”

“Miss Carter,” Mr. Jarvis says, and she wishes he’d just shut up and let her get on with it already, “I have no doubt as to your abilities.  It is the integrity of the chandelier that I find concerning.”

Peggy shakes her head in exasperation, grabbing the rope she’s tied the chandelier to firmly with both hands.  “Now is not the time, Mr. Jarvis, for your concerns.”

“Swinging into the thick of the action on a chandelier, Miss Carter, cannot be considered truly wise in any instance.” Jarvis is wringing his hands together now, quite tense and anxious.  “What if the chain were to break?”

“That, Mr. Jarvis,” Peggy says, and she ties the rope to a beam, “is a risk I will have to take.”

His eyes go wide.  “Are you quite sure?”

She nods firmly.  “Quite.  Help me pull in the chandelier, Mr. Jarvis.”

They pull the chandelier towards them, and Peggy grabs the chain it hangs from with both hands, swinging her legs over one of the cross-pieces.  “Release the rope on three, Mr. Jarvis.”

Jarvis stops and looks at her, his eyebrows raised in alarm.  “Are you still quite sure?”

She huffs and rolls her eyes.  “Mr. Jarvis!”

He nods.  “Of course.  On three.”

“One,” Peggy says, and Jarvis clenches the rope tightly in his hands, “two.”

“Miss Carter, it’s not too late to change your-”

Peggy gives him a piercing glare.  “Three!”

He releases the rope and the chandelier makes a wide swing over the ballroom, Peggy clinging haphazardly to the chain as it slows to a stop.  

She jumps off of it, landing squarely on her feet in the middle of the crowd, and heads turn across the room, the chatter turned to a soft, alarmed hush, the music lingering on in the background.

“Dorothy Underwood,” she says, drawing her gun and pointing it at the brunette woman dancing with the party’s host, “you’re under arrest.”


	5. Daniel Helps Stitch Peggy Back up After the Fundraiser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt from Anonymous: Can you do a Peggy/Daniel prompt where one gets hurt with the other comforting them? It's up to you, i just love fluff._
> 
> Missing scene from 2x06. Daniel helps stitch Peggy back up after the fundraiser. 620 words.

The office is almost eerily quiet. Jarvis is off somewhere (probably having an animated conversation with Rose about the obscenity that is Howard Stark’s unabashed love for Velveeta) and Peggy’s sitting on the edge of Daniel’s desk, him sitting in his chair pressing his handkerchief to her wound.  

“Bleeding’s not stopping,” he mutters, and he sounds _so_ tired that the sound of his words aches almost as much as the gaping hole in her side.

For a brief moment, she closes her eyes, listens to the silence, feels the thrum of her heartbeat against the sharp pain of the wound.  She opens her eyes to find him looking at her, his eyes heavy with concern.  

“You’re gonna need stitches again,” he says gently, and she watches his shoulders droop with exhaustion (and worry, maybe) as he continues to press at the handkerchief.  

It’s nearly two o’clock in the morning, and she’s _exhausted,_ not to mention incredibly overcome with unwelcome emotion at the mere thought of the emotional turmoil she’s caused him by getting hurt.  “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, unable to look at him, choking back tears.  

“Peggy…” His voice is gentle, cautious, wary, and she closes her eyes again.  (She’s got to stop that, or she’s going to fall asleep.)

His fingers brush gently against her wrist and her eyes flicker open, meet his.  It’s not quite the look he gave her in the van ( _that_ look will haunt her later, reside in her mind’s eye while driving with Jarvis through the desert), but it’s _something_ , something new.  “You’re so tired, Peg,” he whispers, and every ounce of composure that remained crumbles away in the wake of his gentle words.

She pulls her wrist back, lets her fingers tangle with his.  “I know.”

Peggy watches as he swallows, runs his thumb along hers.  The wound through her abdomen is still unspeakably painful, two days later, and she imagines, after what he told her in the surveillance van, that his heart might ache more.

“I’m going to go get the first aid kit.” He pulls his hand away reluctantly, stands, grabs his crutch from its hook on the wall.  “Be right back.”

He’s back in what feels like an instant, and she watches, listens, as he inhales sharply when she untucks her blouse to reveal the wound, still dark and gaping.  The memory of two nights before burns, a hazy blur of pain and blood and Daniel’s voice.  She lets out a pained whimper when the sharp sting of alcohol in the wound pulls her back to the present.

“I’m sorry.”  He meets her eyes with his, concerned and cautious.      

“It’s alright,” she replies, her voice shaky, and she closes her eyes again, tries to ignore the pain as he stitches the wound back up again.  (She can feel his hands shaking as he moves the needle, and she wishes, for a brief, fleeting moment, that she’d never left New York, never had the opportunity to be hurt, to hurt him any more than she already had.)

He disappears again for a moment to put away the first aid kit, and then he returns, sits, looks at her expectantly.

Her eyes narrow.  “We need to fix the tracking device.”

He closes his eyes, and his hand reaches out, finds hers again.  “Tomorrow. You need to rest.”

“So do you.”  She watches as he opens his eyes tiredly.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “I do.”

It’s a bit much, she thinks as she looks at him, to be thankful for this moment, but everything’s a bit much right now and she’s thankful nonetheless.  She squeezes his hand and he gazes at her, eyes full of something new and unfamiliar.  And she wonders.


	6. Angie Martinelli Takes Los Angeles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt from[jacquiebethelina44](http://jacquiebethelina44.tumblr.com/): What about a prompt where Angie comes out to visit and gets Peggy to open up about her new relationship_
> 
> Summary: Angie comes out to visit Peggy in California. Afternoon tea is had at the Stark mansion, and Angie pries some information out of Peg. 1683 words.

It’s different, seeing Peggy like this. Softer.  Less inhibited.  She hasn’t seen her since before she left for Los Angeles – and she was sharper then, weary, frustrated.  This Peggy runs out the front door to meet her with a greeting so effusive it seems almost _unlike_ Peggy Carter.  She’s followed by a familiar-looking dark-haired man with a crutch and a smiling redheaded woman wearing a bright floral blouse and embroidered skirt.  

She pulls Angie into a hug the moment she steps out of the car.  “Angie!  It’s so good to see you!”

Mr. Jarvis walks around to the trunk of the car.  “I’ll just get your bags, Miss Martinelli, and then we’ll all go in and have tea.” The redheaded woman slips around them and over to Mr. Jarvis, pressing a kiss to his cheek before helping him to carry the bags indoors.  The oft-spoken-of Mrs. Jarvis, then.

“I’m glad to be here,” Angie says. “It’s a long trip, English; I think I understand now why you haven’t come back to New York yet.”

There’s a low chuckle from the man who followed Peggy out of the house, and Peggy turns away from Angie and raises a teasing eyebrow at him.  He smirks at her, and then steps over to them and reaches out his hand to shake Angie’s. “Daniel Sousa.  I think we’ve met.”

He does look familiar for a reason, then, though she can’t quite place him.  “I think so, yeah, but I don’t remember where?”

A sheepish look comes over his face, and he looks at Peggy, who’s clearly attempting (rather badly) to hold back a laugh. “I, uh… I showed up at the Griffith. To arrest Peg.  You put on quite the performance.”

_Oh_.  One of the fathead male coworkers.  (Though he _is_ pretty cute.  And, apparently, on a nickname basis with _Peg_.)  “Oh, right. Nice to meet you, Daniel.”

“Likewise.  Peg speaks very highly of you.”   _Peg_ again, interesting.

Mr. Jarvis appears in the doorway and clears his throat.  “Shall we all go in for tea?”

He turns, and they go to follow him inside, but not before Angie notices that Peggy’s linked arms with Daniel. Are they together, she wonders, or just good friends?   _Something’s_ been keeping Peggy in L.A.

Howard Stark (ten times more attractive and immoral in real life than on paper, she’s noted in the past) is waiting for them inside.  “Ah,” he says, and Angie rolls her eyes, “if it isn’t Angie Martinelli, actress extraordinaire.”

“It’d help,” she retorts, “if _someone_ ’d actually cast me in a play or a picture.”

“I couldn’t,” Howard responds, “just pass up _Barbara Stanwyck_ , Angela.”

“Don’t start, Stark,” she replies, and sits in the chair Jarvis has pulled out for her.  “I’m younger _and_ prettier than her, and you know it.”

“I’ve got something for you in the next one, I promise,” Howard says, and he sounds almost genuine.  She glances at Peggy, and she’s looking at Howard with a mixture of surprise and approval.  

“Apple torte?” Mrs. Jarvis asks, offering a plateful of something that smells _delectable_.

Angie nods, “Yeah, sure, thanks-” she realizes she doesn’t know the woman’s first name.

“Ana,” Mrs. Jarvis says warmly.

Angie takes the plate.  “Ana.  It looks delicious.”

Ana pats her husband’s shoulder fondly. “It’s Edwin’s favorite.”

Angie raises an eyebrow at his suddenly less than enthusiastic look.   _It’s Ana’s favorite_ , he mouths across the table, and she smiles and takes a bite.  “It _is_ delicious.”

Throughout this whole interaction, she’s been watching Peggy and Daniel out of the corner of her eye.  They’re sitting perpendicular to her at the table, and she notes that they’re talking quietly about something, heads close together, intent.  They might even be holding hands under the table, but from her vantage point, she can’t tell.  

“Dr. Wilkes and I are making good progress on our new project,” Stark says, and Peggy and Daniel’s attention drifts back to the group.  

“He was telling me about it the other day,” Daniel says.  “It sounds promising.”

“I think so,” Howard replies, “though Wilkes is skeptical.   Says the technology we’re playing at is sixty years before its time.”

“Sometimes science jumps in leaps and bounds,” Peggy says, exchanging a knowing glance with, it seems, everyone but Angie.  

“Sometimes,” Stark agrees, “but this isn’t some freaky parallel universe shit.”

Peggy clears her throat and glances at Angie.  “Howard.”

He rolls his eyes.  “Science fiction’s going to be the next big thing in the pictures, Peg, I can feel it.”

“In twenty years, maybe,” Ana says, “but not now, I do not think.”

“What do you think of Los Angeles thus far, Miss Martinelli?”  Mr. Jarvis asks, obviously changing the subject.

She pauses chewing to think on it. “Haven’t seen much of it yet. This house is pretty swell, though, and the sun’s nice.  Caught a glimpse of the Pacific on the way here.”

Howard moves his eyebrows up and down flirtatiously.  “You should see my swimming pool.”

She offers him an exaggeratedly forced smile.  “I think I’ll pass.”

When tea’s over and done with, Peggy shows her to the bedroom she’ll be staying in.  It’s _very_ fancy, with an en-suite bathroom and two _horrid_ portraits of Howard Stark.

“Well,” Angie says, flinging herself backwards onto the (extremely comfortable) bed, “it’s official.  I’m never going back to New York.  The sun, the ocean, the _job opportunities_.  It’s like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Peggy laughs.  “Note that I’ve spent very little time there recently.”

Angie rolls over, props herself up on her elbows, and looks at Peggy inquisitively.  “I’m not thinking it’s the weather, though, that’s keeping you out west.  Tell me about this fella of yours.”

She watches as Peggy’s cheeks turn pink. “There’s not much to tell,” she says, but her voice is uncertain.

Angie rolls her eyes.  She saw the way Peggy acted at tea.  “I doubt that.  He’s real cute.”  

Peggy smiles, almost a grin, at that. “He is, isn’t he?”

“Hmm,” Angie replies, “very.  I’d be jealous, except you’re a thousand times more relaxed and happy than I ever saw you in New Yo-… wait a second.  Peg!  He’s the fella from your office that up and left for California without so much as half a goodbye, isn’t he?”

Peggy looks sheepish, now, and she doesn’t answer Angie’s question.

“You went on about that for _months,_ ” Angie pushes, suddenly realizing why Peggy had been so excited about going to Los Angeles.  “I can’t even begin to count the number of times you came home all beat up, but when I asked about your day you just said, ‘Oh, nothing much happened, it was terribly quiet at the office again.’  Except it couldn’t have been, so you just _missed him_.”

She watches as Peggy averts her eyes, staring very intently at the portrait of Howard beside the armoire.  

Angie sits up on the edge of the bed, stretches her legs, kicks off her shoes.  “Am I wrong?”

Peggy looks over at her.  “No,” she says quietly, and it’s strange to see her so uncertain.  

She tilts her head, curious.  “So what happened?”

Peg walks around the bed and sits down next to her.  “He was offered a promotion too good to pass up.”

“Were you together, in New York?” She thinks Peggy would have told her if she had a boyfriend, but she has been secretive about some things on occasion. (She’s caught her, on more than one occasion, watching the clips of Captain America in the newsreels with a sad, wistful look in her eyes, though she can’t imagine why.)

She shakes her head, almost amused. “No. It never worked out.”

“But you tried?”

Peggy shakes her head again.  “ _He_ tried.”

Interesting.  “But you weren’t into him then?”  She teases.

This makes Peggy laugh.  “Oh, no, I was.  Very.”

“But-?”  Why the hell _weren’t_ they together in New York, then?

“There was a lot going on,” Peggy answers vaguely.  “The timing was never right.”

“And then he left.”  A statement, not a question.

Peggy nods tersely.  “Then he left.”

Angie’s admittedly confused.  “Didn’t you call him?”

She sighs, rolls her eyes exasperatedly. “ _Of course_ I called him.   _He_ didn’t return my calls.”

“You’re a regular heartbreaker, Margaret Carter,” Angie teases.

Peggy bites her lip.  “Hmm, maybe, but so was he.”

Angie raises an eyebrow.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Peggy replies, “that by the time I made it out to California, he had a girlfriend he was mere days away from proposing to.”

That has to have been a shocker.  “Oh my god, English, really?”

“It was a nasty shock.”  Peggy’s expression is tense, and she’s fiddling with the edge of the bedspread.  

“What happened then?”  She’s curious, maybe more curious than she has a right to be, but Peggy’s her best friend, for heaven’s sake.  

“They got engaged,” Peggy replies coolly. “And I can’t fault him for it, she was lovely.  And he thought that I was uninterested.”

“Well, he’s clearly not still engaged.” And hasn’t been for a while, Angie thinks, judging by the way he was looking at her earlier.  (Like he’d go down to the courthouse with her at a second’s notice.)

“No, she broke it off with him rather quickly.”  Peggy looks embarrassed at this, though Angie can’t imagine why.  She got the man, after all.

“Why?”

Peggy closes her eyes, inhales.  “Because she could tell he was in love with me.”

“English,” Angie says, amused by the dramatics of the situation but completely serious, “please, make sure that Stark lets me play you in the movie of your life.”

“It does sound rather dramatic, doesn’t it?”  Peggy laughs. “It didn’t feel dramatic at the time, just awful.”

“‘Rather’ seems an understatement, Peg,” Angie laughs.  “How long did it take you two to get together after that?”

Peggy’s cheeks turn pink.  “Not very long, I admit.  We were both _quite_ ready to do away with postponing things.”

Angie grins.  “I’m glad.  And you’re happy?”

She smiles at this, and it’s rather touching, how content she looks.  “Oh, very.”


	7. Agent Carter The Office (US) AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt from Anonymous: Imagine this. Agent Carter Office AU_
> 
> This is the best prompt. The best.  
> ————  
> Pairings: Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers (past)  
>  Characters: Daniel Sousa, Rose Roberts, Peggy Carter, Jack Thompson, Roger Dooley, Steve Rogers (mention)  
>  Rating: G  
>  Word count: 682

He’s almost afraid of what her answer might be, but he asks Rose anyhow.  “Who’s Steve?”

Rose eyes him cautiously.  “Peggy’s boyfriend.”

His face falls.  “Oh.”

“He used to work in the warehouse,” she adds, “but he enlisted a couple years ago.”

Daniel watches as she takes a bite of her sandwich and pauses, searching for the right words.  

“He was in the Air Force,” she says after a while, “but his plane got shot down last year.  Carter hasn’t been the same since.”

_Oh._  “I didn’t know.”  It’s amazing how guilty he feels for not being aware of something he’s never been told. “That’s terrible.”  

He’s about to ask Rose what Steve was like when Peggy walks into the break room, clearly angry, and sits down from their table with a heavy sigh.  “I’m nearly ready to kill Jack.”

Daniel raises his eyebrows mischievously. “I think that’s probably ill-advised, but if you want, you can get in on my plan to float his stapler in Jell-O.”

Peggy’s eyes light up.  “You’re going to float his stapler in Jell-O?”

He stands and limps over to the refrigerator, pulling out a half-full Pyrex bowl of wobbling cherry Jell-O.  “I’m already halfway there.”

She rests her chin on the heels of her hands and sighs.   “I bloody love you.”

He ignores her words and slides the bowl back into the fridge.  “All that’s left to do is snag the stapler and fill the bowl the rest of the way. You want to distract him long enough for me to grab it?  Or vice versa?”

Peggy grins and pushes her chair back. “Oh, I’ll distract him.  You make a go for it.”

He watches, waits, as she strides out of the break room and approaches her desk behind reception, flashing their arrogant coworker a smile as she sits down.  Peggy fiddles with something on her computer for a moment and then sidles over to the printer, eyes glinting with amusement.

The printer, as per usual, jams. Usually, Daniel’s the first one Peggy asks for help when sorting out a paper jam (though she manages it herself seventy-five percent of the time), but this time she calls out to Jack in a sing-song-y voice.  “Ja-a-ack,” she jabs the printer with her elbow, “would you mind taking a look at this printer? I’m afraid it’s simply not working again.”

Jack, who never resists an opportunity to affirm his masculinity, springs up out of his seat and towards the printer. This is Daniel’s cue to bolt from the break room and to his own desk, which is pushed up against Jack’s so that they face each other while working.  He scans the surface of Jack’s desk for the stapler, but to no avail.  It’s not there.

He spins around in his chair and looks at Peggy, raising his eyebrows.   _It’s not there_ , he mouths, and she flashes him a worried look before grabbing Jack’s shirtsleeve and tugging him closer to the printer.  Her tone of voice is both concerned and flirtatious, and it would irritate him if he wasn’t focused on the task at hand.  “Have you tried everything?”

A hurried shuffle through Jack’s desk drawers reveals the stapler to be hiding behind a stack of neglected-looking file folders.  Daniel tucks the stapler beneath his jacket and moves as quickly as he can into the break room, shutting the door behind him and sighing in relief.

His relief is short-lived, however, because Dooley is sitting at one of the tables, back turned to the fridge, eating a sandwich and eyeing Daniel suspiciously.  “Whatcha been up to, Sousa?”

It’s remarkably simple to formulate an answer that’ll distract Dooley; his marital issues are no secret in the office. “Not much.  My brother came to visit this weekend; spent the whole time berating me for my lack of a girlfriend.”

Dooley sighs and rolls his eyes. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Daniel simply nods and moves behind him towards the refrigerator, hiding the stapler behind a long-expired carton of milk and Peggy’s pyramid of Yoplait.  He’ll deal with the Jell-O later.


	8. Do You... Fondue?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original post [@peg-carter](http://peg-carter.tumblr.com/post/146062223978/peggy-showing-up-at-howards-with-daniel-and): Peggy showing up at Howard’s with Daniel and Howard getting this really mischievous look on his face and going “So, are you two, do you… fondue?”
> 
> Reply from [@truth-renowned](http://truth-renowned.tumblr.com/): Write it!

They can only sneak in so quietly.

It’s dark, and Peggy pulls Daniel by the hand through the house, finger pressed to her lips in an attempt at encouraging silence.

A futile attempt.

His crutch thuds against something, and there’s a yelp of “Ow!” Mr. Jarvis’s voice rings clear above the sound of their tired shuffle through the house. Peggy and Daniel both stop. The lights flicker on.

_“Please vacate the premises.”_

Her eyes adjust to the bright lights of the kitchen. Howard’s standing there in his pajamas, eating a doughnut. “Oh, hey, Peggy.” He nods at Daniel. “Chief.”

She’s more than a little exasperated. “Howard. What are you doing awake at this hour? What are you doing in _here_?”

He shoves a wad of doughnut into his mouth. “I could say the same to you. Besides, it’s my house. Can’t a fellow have a midnight snack when he pleases?”

Peggy rolls her eyes and looks at Daniel. “So much for ‘not waking anyone.’”

“I’ll have you know,” Howard interjects, “that I was already awake.” He pauses, chewing thoughtfully. “Wait a second. So, are you two, do you… fondue?”

“Howard!”

Daniel gives them a confused look. “It’s just cheese and bread.”

Howard scoffs. “Hardly.”

Peggy rolls her eyes. “I’m not putting up with this tonight.” She tugs Daniel’s arm, leading him out of the kitchen. “You’re a terrible host, Howard!”

“Hey,” Howard calls after them in protest, “I’m not the one sneaking my boyfriend in uninvited at all hours of the night.”

“Thanks for the bed, Howard,” Daniel replies, a hint of sarcasm to his remarkably cheerful tone. “I really appreciate it!”

She can almost hear Howard rolling his eyes from behind them. “Enjoy your cheese and bread, my friends.”

Once they’re out of earshot, Daniel whispers, “What’s with Howard and fondue?”

Peggy rolls her eyes and laughs quietly, pressing a kiss to his lips. “A story for another time, perhaps.”


End file.
